Friday, June 15, 2012

Ah, Mother’s Day. It came around again. Of course, Provie was drawn out of the
mothballs in the attic and given a good shake and presented to us in her annual
splendor.For Christian women, she comes
hand-in-hand with Mother’s Day.There is
no escaping her.

I will confess here and now that I am none too fond
of the Virtuous Wife from Proverbs 31, whom I have nicknamed Provie. Oh, I know
her worth is far above rubies.I know
that her own works will praise her in the gates.In fact, I am willing to concede that some of
the most beautiful things ever written about women in the Bible are written
about her.The words are sublime and inspiring: "She does him good and not evil
all the days of her life." "Her children rise up and call her
blessed." "She opens her mouth with wisdom, and on her tongue is the
law of kindness."There is much to
admire, but something is missing.

My husband says I am far too hard on her; I don’t
care.“She just wants to take care of
her family,” he says, “You know half a dozen women who are just like the
Virtuous Wife.”Then, he lists off my
wonderful friends in support of his statement.“Yes and no,” I reply.I do
indeed know myriad women who mirror some of the outward qualities of Provie,
but they are so much more so than
she. I mean, does anybody really like this Proverbs vision
of the ideal woman? She's always getting up early and buying fields and
spinning and filling up ships and getting food and displaying her merchandise.
Sounds like a real bore to me. And, yes,
her husband will have no lack of gain.And yes, she reaches out her hands to the needy.I get it; she’s pretty darn amazing.But again,
something is missing.

This view of a wife comes to us from God, of course.He inspired Solomon to put down the
words.We know, then, that He must want
us to take note of the qualities of this Virtuous Wife.This character sketch apparently also comes
from that good, ol' scoundrel, King Solomon’s, mom. He called himself King
Lemuel in 31:1, but he wasn’t fooling anybody.I can only imagine that Bathsheba harangued him constantly to make
better choices in his love life.As she
watched the parade of foreign beauties arriving in Jerusalem to share her son’s
bed, she must have wished for him just one Hebrew wife who had in her
possession the greatest attribute of all: fear of the Lord. Years
later, I imagine, he wrote this proverb under divine inspiration to make it up
to her; “Ma was right all along,” he must have sighed to himself, as he
witnessed the deceitful charms and passing beauties of his pagan wives.Thus, was ensconced for all times the wifely
ideal.Again though, I say,something
is missing.

I believe that the Christian ideal of womanhood must
veer at least a bit from this Proverbs 31 portrayal, by necessity of this Age
of Grace in Christ. Proverbs 31 is all about doing. Provie works and works and
works and works.It is good work,
too.Blessed work that fortifies and
edifies her family.She is at a
distance, though.We do not get to know
her.When will she draw near a moment
and just be? Doesn’t it remind you of Martha, Lazarus’s sister?I can imagine Provie’s being worried and
troubled by many things.But, I as a
Christian woman want to choose the greater part.I want to choose the one thing that is
needed.So, I offer up as my own role
model Sarah Smith of Golders Green.

Do you know Sarah Smith?She is the Great Lady from Chapter 12 of The Great Divorce,C.S. Lewis's novel about heaven and
hell.The narrator boards a bus in hell
that is bound for heaven.On it are
miserable souls kept in the bondage of their own making.He then takes a tour of heaven with 19th
century Scottish author, George MacDonald, as his guide; he, along with the
other souls under damnation, must make a choice: to die to themselves and find
life anew in the realm of glory or to return to hell in the chains of
self-satisfied sin.In that plane, as in
ours, toomany make the latter
choice.It is not Scripture, but it is
Spirit-soaked.My favorite part is when
he first views the Great Lady (edited):

Then, on the left and
right, at each side of the forest avenue, came youthful shapes, boys upon one
hand, and girls upon the other. . . . Between them went musicians: and after
these a lady in whose honour all this was being done. . . . Only partly do I
remember the unbearable beauty of her face."Is it? ... is
it?" I whispered to my guide.
"Not at all," said he. "It's someone ye'll never have heard of.
Her name on earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green."

"She
seems to be ... well, a person of particular importance?"
"Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this
country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.""And who are all
these young men and women on each side?""They are her sons
and daughters . . . Every young man or boy that met her became her son . . .
Every girl that met her was her daughter.""And how ... but
hullo! What are all these animals? A cat-two cats-dozens of cats. And all those
dogs . . . why, I can't count them. And the birds. And the horses."

"They
are her beasts. . . . Every beast and bird that came near her had its place in
her love. . . . And now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father
flows over into them." I looked at my Teacher in amazement.
"Yes," he said. "It is like when you throw a stone into a pool,
and the concentric waves spread out further and further. Who knows where it
will end? Redeemed humanity is still young, it has hardly come to its full
strength.”“But already there is joy enough in the little finger of a great
saint such as yonder lady to waken all the dead things of the universe into
life." (emphasis added)
Now that . . . that makes me weep with shameful knowledge of my own shortfalls
and sins and doubts and denials. I cannot feel bad about not getting up early
and filling up a bunch of ships; but, I can remember times when I have not
shown the love of Christ to those upon whom I have come in my life, and feel
real and true sorrow.My husband says,
“Of course you like this Sarah Smith, because you like gadding about with kids and animals and
not doing any real work.” As always, he
knows me only too well.There is nothing
to suggest, though, that Sarah was less than industrious during her earthly
time – but she was something more.There was overflowingjoy in her; there was overarching love in
her. If Provie is Martha, then Sarah is
Mary – both women, good and true; but one who just got it a little better.There
is only one thing I want from this life: to live it in a
way that, when the shadows fade and we are out of the cave and into the sunlight,
my eternal legacy will mirror just a hundredth of that of Sarah Smith of
Golders Green.

Thursday, June 07, 2012

Or maybe I just think they are because it had been so long since I'd plucked a ripe strawberry from the vine and enjoyed its sweet juiciness then and there. Despite our chilly spring here, some of my strawberries are already bright red-ly eatable; so, I ate them! Blueberries will start coming ripe next. And I've even plucked a few snap peas as well. They said I was silly planting my garden in March . . . but, I'll get at least two harvests of some crops this summer! Happy garden produce time to all gardeners out there in cyber-ville!

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

I know, I know, hate is a strong word. But, I do hate anti-Stratfordians, and here is why:

I just finished Bill Bryson's updated and expanded illustrated edition of his Shakespeare biography. It is a nifty piece of work -- wry and inquisitive without falling into wild speculation; appreciative without being hagiographic; concise and yet very satisfying. The last chapter raised my blood pressure a bit, though: Claimants.

Now, Mr. Bryson does a nice smack-down of the anti-Stratfordian poppycock peddlers. He gives many different theories the once-over, finds each one severely and comically wanting, and dismisses each in turn. Mr. Bryson asserts with authority and incredulity at there having ever been any question of it Shakespeare's authorship of the plays attributed to him. And that is well and good.

But, I want revenge. Yes! Revenge! It absolutely infuriates me that so-called scholars and other people who ought to know better continue down this perfidious path unpunished, besmirching not only the name and reputation of one man, but the entire ideas of the individual human spirit and creative genius. William Shakespeare, the son of a glover (eew! tradesman!), was a provincial know-nothing who only attended grammar school and then trod the boards for a living. There is no way he could have written some of the most sublime artistic expressions of English language. Ergo, he must not have written them. Must have been an aristocrat . . . or two . . . or three!

That whole conjecture is repulsive to my American soul; but, it ought to repulse anyone who marvels at and is grateful for the great works of art that enrich our lives and expand our humanity. To think that it is only a certain "type" of person who can scale the heights of Mount Horeb to brush his fingers against the face of God, is to know nothing about art or about history. Tell me again of all the great poet kings. David. Yes, but according to the anti-Stratfordians, David could not have been king at all and written those glorious psalms because he was born an obscure shepherd boy in the wilderness of Judea. Must have been Saul -- oops, he had backwater roots, too. Um, Jonathan? He was born royal, so it must have been him. See how ridiculous that theory is?

Was William Shakespeare chosen by God in the same way as David or Abraham? Or, was it sheer human gumption and a ton of hard, diligent work that brought him to the summit of his art? Or both? I guess your opinion on that depends upon your opinion of creative work. I believe that all art wells up from the spring of our Creator God. I believe that there is no such thing as a thoroughly secular piece of art, because all creative expression in man is a reflection -- whether conscious or not -- of how he views and honors his Creator -- either to His glory or to man's damnation. I also believe in the 10,000 hour rule -- that excellence in anything comes at the price of, if not blood, then toil, sweat, and tears.

Those not of a spiritual bent might disagree with part of my premise. They would do well not to; but, that is up to them to decide. What is not up to them to decide is on whom the spark of genius will fall. I believe it falls on far more than we will ever remember in posterity, but few are willing to make the sacrifices to realize their own genius. William Shakespeare made those sacrifices. Interestingly, his friends made their own sacrifices, too, after Shakespeare's death -- ensuring that the Bard's works were collected and published and kept alive. Fall on your knees, you lovers of language, in gratitude for the people who saved Shakespeare for us, and the good God who covered it all with His blessing.

Anyway, to deny William Shakespeare credit for his achievements is the most base sort of robbery. Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;But he that filches from me my good nameRobs me of that which not enriches him,And makes me poor indeed.
I know that the villain Iago said that; that does not make it less true. I also know that those rascally anti-Stratfordians have parlayed their lies into, if not riches, then renown. But, they are trying to steal from the glover's son, the grammar-school boy, the actor, the playwright -- yes, and even from all in this world who yearn to reach that elusive summit, no matter how low our origins -- the only good name that should ever be attached to that very good body of work: William Shakespeare.

Monday, June 04, 2012

Some other books I'm getting through are as follows: How to Keep Kosher: A Comprehensive Guide to Understanding Jewish Dietary Law by Lisë Stern is so not written for a shiksa, Christian, and Messianic Jewish dilettante like me. But, it is a wonderful book! I've been wondering lately if we who are Christians give up something beautiful when we ignore Jewish laws and traditions in our true freedom in Christ. After all, our Savior walked this earth as an observant Jew. So, I've been exploring things like keeping kosher and keeping the Sabbath. This makes my husband very tense. The man loves bacon. I see it as just another way to worship and honor my awesome God -- to remember all the things He did before putting on flesh and dwelling with us. Ms Stern's book is written with clarity, humor, understanding, and charity. There are many ways to keep kosher -- many different levels of observance. This book will help you achieve however strict or casual an observance to which you are called.
In the same spirit as the above book, I'm also reading Sen. Joe Lieberman's paean to remembering the Sabbath Day and keeping it holy, The Gift of Rest. Why aren't Christians more particular about honoring God by observing this commandment? I think it is because it is -- at least for me -- too easy to get caught up in the constant rush and excuse our lack of obedience through a misunderstood (or calculatedly misunderstood) freedom in Christ. It's not about being legalistic and whited sepulchre-ish. It's about opening up to even greater gifts through obedience. It is definitely worthwhile to me to study further the blessings of true, biblical rest.

And now for something completely different: I have found that one of my favorite writers, Bill Bryson, has released an updated and illustrated edition of his excellent biography of William Shakespeare! Oh, happy day! So, I'm indulging in that toothsome treat as late as I can keep my eyelids open at night. Loving my two Bills!

Starting on some Angela Thirkell, as well. Right now I have read the first couple chapters of The Demon in the House. She is said to be of the same vein as Austen, Wodehouse, and Benson. I'm having a hard time getting into this first volume, but I'll keep at it. It took me a little while to get into E.F. Benson, as well, and that ended up reaping fruitful rewards.

Lastly, I'm trying to read one of the Unspoken Sermons by George MacDonald every couple nights. They are so packed with beautiful, startling, revolutionary, revelatory, and awe-inspiring ideas -- I cannot digest more than one at a time. I can barely digest the one. This man was so anointed and Spirit-soaked; it just reminds me what a puny, measly, crummy little baby Christian I am. But, you know, it reminds me in a good way -- how much "further up and further in" I have in store for me if I just stay faithful in my walk. Yay! I can see why C.S. Lewis chose George MacDonald as his spiritual guide in that marvelous book, The Great Divorce. If Jack is anywhere done with the real George on the other side of the veil, I'm going to steal him away for a while myself.

In my ongoing effort to make note of every book I read in 2012, I ought to write that I re-read three Agatha Christie novels last week. I know: re-reading mysteries? Doesn't that defeat the point? But, Ms Christie wrote so many mysteries, so many of which I have read, and they are so skillful and so sly that I forget whodunnit after a few years. So, I keep cycling though my mass markets, year-after-year.

There are actually only four of her mysteries whose denouements I can never forget: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Murder on the Orient Express, Murder on the Nile, and And Then There Were None. If you've never read Agatha Christie, don't read Roger Ackroyd first (as I mistakenly did); but, do read it once you've met and fallen in love with Monsieur Poirot in other mysteries. It is a humdinger.

The three I read last week were: Sparkling Cyanide, Why Didn't They Ask Evans?, and Murder is Easy. Not much to note about them other than that Christie makes what must be such a difficult writing task look so darn easy. And the crimes, even murder most foul, are so darn fun. Dang Brits! Why do Americans even try to write?

(That said: I know several American authors who write extraordinarily well. You'd almost think they were British. But, as a national whole, the Brits outclass us by sheer sparkling, spectacular volume of wit and skill with pen or quill.)

Why I Write (At Least On Good Days):

"Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things." --Philippians 4:8

Witty, Wise and Wonderful Words

She was not in the least afraid of loneliness, because she was not afraid of devils. I think they were afraid of her.
--G.K. Chesterton, The Ball and the Cross, Chapter XI, "A Scandal in the Village"

The Obligatory "About Me" Section

"I dream of simple things I can believe in." -- Amy Grant
********
"I will dare to dream. I will dare to believe in something, baby. And I will dare to be happy. I will dare to be happy." -- Carolyn Arends
********
"It's so amazing how Your voice keeps breaking through -- and I can hear You." -- Carolyn Arends

Places I Like. Organizations I Support.

And Now, A Little Love For My Neighbours to The North

Canadians rock! We salute the native land of Carolyn Arends, L.M. Montgomery, Isabel Paterson, Mark Steyn, Tim Horton's (Toujours Frais Café!), SharlaZ, Ryan the Lutheran, Rebecca from BC, some of the best comedians and comediennes, and countless other creative artists, intellectuals, and all-around nice folks who enrich our lives! (And I must not forget the lovely Robin Sparkles!)